


sun child

by Ro29



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Caretaking, Eldritch Anakin Skywalker, Fluff, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Obi-Wan Kenobi is doing his best, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Platonic Relationships, Tea, The Force Is Weird (Star Wars), The Force can be Overwhelming, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28321125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro29/pseuds/Ro29
Summary: “Oh, dear one, how bad is it?”Anakin whines and a star sizzles out, a glass in the room cracks and shudders.(or; sometimes being so tied to the Force causes problems, Obi-Wan helps his Padawan as best he can)
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 34
Kudos: 268





	sun child

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vapaad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vapaad/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Yan!! <3 <3

Anakin has always been a child of the suns. He has known, since he was little, that he is a child of the desert and the twin suns and triplet moons.

He’s always known that, just as he knows that he isn’t quite right, isn’t entirely what he should be.

He feels a little trapped, almost like he is too big for his body, and yet like he will never be big enough.

Obi-Wan helps with that sometimes. He helps to tether him without caging him, helps him find the stars without losing himself within all of the atoms that make them up, helps him to see the nebulae without being consumed with all the possibilities.

He is newly fourteen and the universe is large and calling out to him, pulling at him from every which way and Anakin is falling. He is burning up and overwhelmed by everything, by the touch of all the minds in the Temple and surrounding it, by the things that make up the space around them all.

He is drowning in a supernova, sequences flashing across his eyes until it burns.

He is newly fourteen and curled up on the couch trying to breath through it all.

There is a gentle hand on his arm, and Anakin feels the tide of calm and peace and care that is _Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan_ , that beats in his chest and rests beside his heart.

His head hurts and he doesn’t know when Obi-Wan came into the room, not when time is a fleeting thing like this. It could’ve been anywhere from when a star was born to the forming of a galaxy, the hum of life below the surface crescendoing with a birth or the low wail of death a system over.

He breathes and Obi-Wan’s voice is soft as he rests a cool hand against Anakin’s eyes and overheated face.

“Oh, dear one, how bad is it?”

Anakin whines and a star sizzles out, a glass in the room cracks and shudders.

Obi-Wan hums softly, not enough to make Anakin’s ears ring, but just enough to calm the ache of a thousand shattering screams.

“I apologize for not noticing earlier, dear one,” Obi-Wan murmurs and Anakin sighs as Obi-Wan brushes gently across his mind, a soothing hand gentling a bit of the rough edges, helping calm his mind from the cacophony of the input.

_It’s okay_ , Anakin means to say, reaches out to brush it against Obi-Wan’s mind, slips somewhere between the shift of a building and the journey of a comet and thinks he ends up shouting it, all fire and flame and stars in their death throes.

Obi-Wan’s hand is steady on his shoulder even as Anakin feels that steady beat of _kind, care, protector, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan_ flinch just the slightest away from the supernova burst.

_Sorry,_ he whispers, doesn’t know if he says it aloud or not, shakes with the shivering leaves and the dwindling rays of light.

Obi-Wan places soothing fingers on his temples, sends _warmth, shielding, care_ through the bond as he gently rubs circles there.

Anakin sighs, eyes still closed, as the _pounding_ , _building_ , _blinding_ expanse of space leaks away slowly. Head no longer as painful as it was before. He reaches out gently as he can, wraps himself in _Obi-Wan_ and latches onto his mind as a steadying presence, turns and hides his face in the fabric of his Master’s robe.

“Have you had anything to eat today, Padawan?” Obi-Wan asks and Anakin hums, ignores the nausea in his stomach and the way the atoms spin and shake and shiver.

“A star,” he manages to say, thinks of that star that had folded and yielded to him, let itself be consumed with little more than a whimper, thinks of how his head had filled up and his body had felt small and burning as he folded that star into his own being, all of the things that made it up ripped apart and pieced back together as he floated and drifted amongst the galaxy.

Obi-Wan is silent and Anakin is still young, but he knows that type of silence, knows that his Master is concerned and worried and unhappy with his answer as he always has been when Anakin gets like this. When the headache builds and he is too big for his body and he goes beyond the limits of the planet, reaches out to the Force and lets the Force reach into him.

And Anakin, at newly fourteen, doesn’t know how to explain it really, other than that he is too much in too small of a body.

Obi-Wan tries to understand, and Anakin loves him for it, loves him for doing his best and aches at the way it resembles Mum.

He tries to open his eyes, can’t and tenses as a shudder reverberates throughout his body and the galaxy, as something slots into place somewhere and rips itself apart elsewhere.

Obi-Wan stops rubbing his temples, cards gentle fingers through Anakin’s hair instead and Anakin sinks into it, relaxes slowly, reaches for Obi-Wan even more, tries to keep himself tethered.

It half works and Obi-Wan wraps him in warmth and blankets of affection and care and safety.

He finally manages to open his eyes, mind a little calmer, feels just a little more present in his too small body.

Obi-Wan hums, soft, and his voice is soothing as the sounds of the universe slowly slip away, filter out and back under the skin of space and time.

“Stars, while filling I’m sure, are hardly nutritious for growing boys.”

Anakin manages a little laugh and his stomach chooses that moment to rumble. He winces as he looks up at Obi-Wan, and finds his Master watching him with a small grin.

“It sounds like your stomach agrees with me, Padawan.” Obi-Wan murmurs, amused and grinning.

Anakin flushes, nods, and then closes his eyes against the nausea and the sudden burst of stardust and supernovas flickering across his eyes.

Obi-Wan steadies him, presses gentle hands to his face and pushes _quiet, calm_ into his head softly, gently.

Anakin welcomes it, breathes through it and clings tightly to his Master in a way he hasn’t done for a while now.

Obi-Wan hums and helps him to stand up, doesn’t push him away, lets him cling as he guides them to the table.

Anakin sits and winces as he feels the snap of an initiate’s night terrors tearing at him and leaving raw aches. He breathes, trying to soothe them gently and not overwhelm their tiny mind and tiny body with all that makes him up, trying to dim his burning bright soul into something less like a flame and more like an ember.

He opens his eyes to the kitchen light dimmed and Obi-Wan moving quietly about the kitchen.

Anakin looks at the table, traces the patterning with his eyes as he reaches clumsy fingers out into the Force. Holding softly onto the edges of Obi-Wan’s calming presence, he lets the soothing trills and notes and bubbles run over his mind like precious water as he waits.

There is an amused undercurrent there, and buried underneath that is the worry that his Master always seems to carry when Anakin gets like this.

Obi-Wan hums and his mind pushes back against him with an admonishing nudge, gentle in its demands. Anakin draws back, sends a whisper of apology through their bond, breathes and closes his eyes as he tries to build enough shielding around him that he remembers not to look into other people’s heads without their permission.

He isn’t very good at it yet, but he’s trying.

Obi-Wan sends reassurance back to him, follows it with a teasing thought of meditation that makes Anakin wrinkle his nose.

He doesn’t much like meditation, likes it better when it’s moving meditation but even then it’s too much thinking, delving deep within himself in a way that makes him uncomfortable.

He brushes a huff of indignation back and Obi-Wan chuckles aloud, the sound dragging Anakin back to the here and now.

He blinks open his eyes for the third time in as many hours, just as Obi-Wan begins heating the water, mugs set out along with tea and the ingredients for soup.

Anakin watches quietly as the water heats up, feels it in the molecules that make the water up and feels that buzz carry as he sinks into it, unwinds little by little.

The room fills slowly with a sweet smell, carries with it a hint of spice.

It’s his favourite, the one that Obi-Wan always seems to have whenever Anakin, who has never loved tea as much as his Master does, needs or asks for some. It makes him feel warm inside, reminds him of Mum and all the little things she always did for him even when they owned nothing, not even themselves.

It aches something strange, sharp and sweet at the same time, soft with the edge of pain and jagged edges.

He brushes over it, ignores it in a way that he knows Obi-Wan might scold him for if he knew, and if Anakin wasn’t having trouble keeping himself inside of this moment, inside of his body.

The water reaches the heat it needs to and the vegetables are put inside of the pot with the other ingredients to cook.

Somewhere a tree so old it outdates a civilization trembles as it is brought to the ground and elsewhere a sapling is just breaking through the earth. Anakin breathes, tethers himself to the warmth and the sweet-spice smell and the calmer scents of the soup as it cooks.

His head pounds and he presses his palms to his eyes, doesn’t know how much time slips by as he sits like that. He opens his eyes as the noises in the kitchen, quiet as they were, stop. Feels Obi-Wan grow closer as he sets something down on the table in front of Anakin.

Obi-Wan’s voice is quiet still as he presses gentle fingers to Anakin’s temple. “I hope it hasn’t gotten worse?”

Anakin exhales, brings his hands down as he forces his eyes open again, murmuring, “No, it’s better... just,” he shrugs, “hurts.”

Obi-Wan purses his lips, eyes gentle and nods. “Well, hopefully some soup and tea will help a little.”

Anakin hums, “Maybe,” and leans into Obi-Wan’s touch for a second, feels like he is ten and just settling in again and not fourteen and wanting to have freedom and be Knighted already.

He leans back, looks at the bowl of soup, lightly seasoned and warm next to the mug of tea, and thinks of twin suns and triplet moons and owning nothing and still being wrapped up in a hug everyday, love pressed into his bones even when he didn’t own himself.

He breathes in deeply, murmurs a quiet _‘thank you’_ and reaches first for the tea, letting the warm liquid sit in his mouth for a second before he swallows, the sweetness and the spicy kick tangling together on his tongue.

It tastes a little like a supernova or a star, the sweet brush over nerves and the kick of fire and burning matter, overwhelming and hot and bubbly on his tongue. He smiles, sends his appreciation as best he can to Obi-Wan and sips at it again, thinks of suns and space and being too big for himself as the tea on his tongue and the warmth his Master is blanketing him in settle him, ground him.

There are moments where he is reminded that he is not an adult yet, when he is reminded he is still just fourteen and not yet hit his growth spurt, when he is reminded that Obi-Wan cares for him even when he is bad, even when it feels like he doesn’t.

This is one of those moments, and Anakin sips his tea and takes small spoonfuls of the soup and let’s his Master take care of him for a little bit, let’s himself remember that he is cared for.

Obi-Wan’s presence is warm around his mind and he is still a little too big for his body, still a little floaty, but he is here, and the tea is on his tongue and the soup warms him up and nourishes him and he is, most importantly, loved.

The universe is loud and the room is quiet and Anakin’s mind floats gently along the waves of the galaxy and leans heavily against his Master’s shields.

It is all he needs in that moment, and it is perfect.

The planet spins, and the Temple hums with _life_ , and the Force floods him with _peace, love, light, home, mine, yours, brilliant_.

Anakin’s head doesn’t pound now, wrapped in soft warmth. His eyes begin to droop and the last thing he consciously registers before he slips off into sleep, is Obi-Wan’s gentle smile and the feeling of being lifted up and held close.

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing all the force bullshit lksdlksj
> 
> If you want to find me other places I have a [writing tumblr](https://rose-blooms-red.tumblr.com) and a [fandom tumblr](https://themessofthecentury.tumblr.com)
> 
> Please come yell at me about Star Wars and DC!


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